(What If) I Just Want To Go Home
by CoolKidConan
Summary: Modern AU based on the movie What If. Killian, burned out from a recent failed relationship decides to put his love life on hold until he meets Emma at a friend's house party. They form an instant connection, striking up a close friendship. There is no denying the chemistry between them, leading them to question what happens when your best friend becomes the love of your life.


Hi! So I recently saw the movie What If with Daniel Radcliffe and Zoe Kazan and loved it, and all I could think about was writing a Captain Swan AU based on it, so here it is! Hope you guys enjoy it! Reviews are super, super welcome!

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><p><strong>1. <strong>

The first time they meet, they're at a house party and his heart is heavy with the grief of having just recently broken up with his —well, now ex— girlfriend. He's staring at the fridge after having wandered about the house incredibly clueless as to what to do or where to go, a beer bottle clung tightly to his left hand like a lifeline, his blue eyes staring right ahead at the magnets on the fridge door. He contemplates them for a while, tries to make sense of the words imprinted on the magnets like he's trying to form an image in his mind, and his head tilts ever so slightly towards the right as he muses over the words. The grip on his bottle tightens when he finds the word 'love' scrambled in the middle of the others, and he frowns as his heart pulls for a second in his chest when he makes sense of the word. And then his right hand reaches almost subconsciously towards the magnets and he's stringing them together like he's possessed, words forming sentences and sentences forming meaning.

_Love brings nothing but wasted years and endless torment. _

His fingers are still on the last word when he notices a presence next to him, and next thing he knows there's a light scoff coming from behind him.

"That's hopeful." the voice drips with sarcasm, and he turns his head around to find a mop of curly blonde hair, and green eyes looking up at him with a clever sort of smile. The greenness of her eyes silences him for a second, too in awe to process anything going on around him other than those eyes and her smirk. And then he snaps out of it when she blinks and he manages a light chuckle that's almost a sigh.

"Yeah." he says, eyes falling to the floor. "What can I say? I'm a romantic at heart."

The fact that she actually manages to smile at his sarcasm amuses him, and she's quick to reply,

"Don't mind me, I'm just observing and judging silently." as she opens the fridge door in front of him and reaches for a beer.

He quirks a smile up at her and then she turns around and she's gone, the faint memory of pale skin and golden locks imprinted in his brain for what seems like an eternity.

He distracts himself and walks around, sparks up a casual conversation with people that look vaguely familiar, but gets bored easily enough. He moves slowly from room to room of the house, watching over couples getting to know each other, friends laughing at jokes, red solo cups spilled on top of tables… When he goes to have a chug of his beer, he notices it's empty, so he moves back to the kitchen with heavy steps before leaving the empty bottle on a counter somewhere. He half-hates Dave for making him come to his party.

(Where is Dave, anyways?)

All murderous thoughts towards his friend are put aside as soon as he gets to the kitchen and he sees long golden locks standing in front of the fridge, right hand moving around in front of her with determination and skill. He doesn't know why, but he swallows before stepping towards her, and as soon as he's within reaching distance she turns and offers him a shy smile.

"Sorry I kind of moved your… poem," she pauses, before she slips the last word of her sentence in place.

"It's alright," he says with a shrug. "There's plenty of space on the fridge for my sulking."

She nods sarcastically at that, and he takes the minute to steal a glance at what she's written.

_You want people to look at you differently? Make them._

He finds out more about her in her small composition than from their entire conversation.

"It's kind of weirdly addictive," she says with a smile and a slight chuckle, like she's trying to lighten the mood her tiny 'poem' has darkened. He opens his mouth to say something but then there's a large figure in between them, calling to them happily with a smile and certainly a drink or too more than strictly necessary.

"Hey guys!" David squeezes his way between them despite the lack of space between the pair, and they both move away awkwardly to make way for him. "Two of my favorite people in the world."

"Hey mate, how much have you had? Has Mary Margaret seen you like this?" he asks him, eyebrow arching up and smile quirking upwards, ever so slightly mocking his friend.

"I'm fine, I can take my drinks," David replies, and there's a little more confidence in the way he pronounces that, so he lets him be. "I see you two have met."

"Kind of," he replies, and the blonde in front of him nods slightly.

"Killian, this is my cousin, Emma Swan," David says, motioning towards her with a small wave of his hand, and she smiles at him. "Emma, this is Killian Jones. College roommate."

"So you're the infamous Killian Jones," she says with wide eyes.

"Pleasure," he says, extending a hand for her to shake. His mind may be playing tricks on him after being so closed up for so long, but he swears lightning hits him the moment she takes his hand and shakes it. She doesn't seem to notice, except for the fact that she lets go of his hand a little bit too quickly, so he dismisses it almost immediately.

"Yeah, Killian's a little down lately," her cousin says, like overly exaggerated features and a faked whisper that Killian can still hear. "He's been sulking for the past two months cooped up because his girlfriend dumped him," David explains with a knowing nod.

"I've noticed." Emma says, eyes widening and wandering to his magnetic words still formed on the fridge door.

"It's been a month, and I dumped her. But thanks for the embarrassment, mate," he replies with a sarcastic smile, hoping to drown down the pent up regret and anger at the mention of his past love, and David pats him on the shoulder with a chuckle.

"There you are!" there's a woman's voice calling out all of a sudden, and a petite brunette with very short hair and wide brown eyes reaches out for David the second she stands in view. "How much have you had to drink?" she asks, before casting glances at the other two besides him and nodding. "Emma, Killian, nice to see you," she says with forced excitement as she takes in the sight of her semi-drunk boyfriend.

"Mary Margaret," they both acknowledge at the same time, and if either of them notices a slight tension in the air when it happens, neither of them says anything.

"Not nearly as much as I want to," David replies with a wink, and Mary Margaret groans before murmuring apologies to the other two and practically dragging David away from them.

Silence settles around them for some awkward seconds, neither of them knowing what to say until Killian speaks,

"So, cousins?" he asks. She looks at him with wide eyes and blinks a few times before saying,

"Yeah… something like that."

He frowns confusedly for a second as he opens the fridge and takes another beer.

"Something like that? How can you be uncertain as to whether you are related to someone or not?" he asks.

He wants to ask why she seems to tense up when he presses for answers, but the way her forehead crinkles slightly at his probing questions makes him rethink it. Her nearly hurt face is gone in a second, and she trades her frowned forehead for a sly smile.

She looks at him with an eyebrow raised,

"Wouldn't you like to know."

But he's right there with her and replies,

"Perhaps I would."

There's a spark when their eyes meet, blue clashing against green and then she smiles sweetly, excuses herself to the bathroom, and she's gone before he can say another word.

He decides to take his leave not long after that, Mary Margaret scolding a semi-asleep David while Killian silently steps around to the front door to grab his coat. He's reaching for his coat on the rack when there's a small cough on his side, like someone is trying to clear their throat, and when he turns and finds her there, all golden beauty and flowery dress, his heart races. They share nervous smiles at yet another encounter. She certainly hadn't expected to see him again, had hoped the confusion and rumble of the party would be enough to drown him out and lose sight of him amidst the crowd, and yet there they were, standing next to each other again, shoulders almost brushing.

"Silently leaving without saying goodbye?" he asks, an eyebrow raised cockily.

"Yeah," she breathes, as she shrugs into her coat.

"How dare you… do exactly what I was doing," he adds cleverly, and she rolls her eyes at him with pursed lips that are trying too hard to avoid a smile.

He opens the door for her —gentleman that he is (he tells as much), and she rolls her eyes yet again— and they both step foot into the cold night before ascertaining that they're both walking the same way. When he offers to walk her home, she doesn't exactly say no.

"I've actually heard many things about you," she says, when they're halfway to her place.

"Have you now?" he asks, eyebrows raised. He does that quite often, she notes, and it distracts her momentarily before she responds,

"I have. David has told me many things about your college night outs," she says with a daring smile. "In excruciating detail, I might add."

"Oh no," he feigns concern, "how much has he told you?"

"Well let's just say I didn't expect you to be one prone to puking out on the highway while a car was running," she says, and he groans at the memory.

"In my defense," he says, and she's already laughing in his face. But he can't find it in himself to care —he loves the way she laughs. "I'll say the alcohol was cheap and the food was less than desirable."

"Sure, blame it on the alcohol," she scoffs.

"Swan, you wound me," he says, a hand on his chest in mock hurt.

It doesn't really matter what the explanation is, because she's nearly doubling over in laughter at the thought of him in that predicament and he can't help but chuckle along, finding his past misery amusing when told from her lips.

When her laughter dies down, she finds strength to pull herself together to ask another question,

"So you knew Mary Margaret in college too, I take it?"

"Oh, yeah." he says. "I was there when they met."

"Was it all, yearning eyes and pixie dust and all of those special effects they use in movies to make it painfully clear that it's love at first sight?" she asks, the irony evident in her tone. He chuckles at that.

"Actually, kind of, yeah." he says, and she quirks up her eyebrows at him. He chuckles, "No, don't get me wrong, it wasn't anything like the movies. No dramatic violin soundtrack playing in the background, no close up to their eyes… But it felt… right, I guess."

There's a look in her eyes he can't quite place when he looks down at her, but it fades away as quickly as it came, and he shrugs it off.

"What was not right was having to play third wheel every time they felt like making out in bed." he adds, and her laugh fills the silence of the dark night around them.

"I feel your pain" she says, catching her breath. "You should see them at family dinners."

"Family dinners?" he feigns offense, "With all the children around?"

"Can you believe their nerve?" she plays along, as if testifying for some obscene act she had seen up close.

"Unbelievable." he finally remarks, before she looks over to her right and stops in her tracks. He stops in front of her with a halt and questioning eyes.

"This is actually me." she says, pointing towards the house door to their side.

"Oh," he says, surprised. "Um… Okay… Well, it was really nice to meet you." he manages to spit out, suddenly much more nervous than he was just a second before. He cursed himself for choosing now as the moment to get flustered and insecure —everything had felt so natural until that point, he can't believe how he's awkwardly managing the situation now.

"Yeah, yeah it really was." she replies with a nod and a smile.

He gulps down as he nods twice quickly, and he can't find it in himself to do anything other than that, interiorly panicking at his own ineptitude. There's a corner of his mind that barks at him and he blinks twice so as to get a hold of himself.

"If you… you know, ever want to do this again…" he trails off.

"Oh!" she says, like she's surprised. "Yeah, yeah, sure," she takes out a worn out black notebook and a pen, turns to a random page and scribbles something on the corner before ripping it out and handing it to him. She's written her name and her phone number on it with hurried handwriting that looks brilliant to him when he checks it.

"Good," is all he can manage to say, and he inwardly kicks himself for being such an idiot at a time like this. She nods slowly before speaking again.

"Well, I should get inside. It's late."

"Sure."

"And my boyfriend is probably worried about me, so—"

If she says anything else it doesn't register in his mind, because his heart has most likely stopped beating at the sound of that word.

Boyfriend, he thinks.

Of fucking course.

(The moment she steps inside she slumps against the door because she knows giving him her number was a mistake. The honesty in his blue eyes haunts her sleep that day, and she knows she's beyond screwed.)


End file.
